After Math
by Cedar
Summary: In his forced time away from the FBI office, Colby has little to do but think about his near death and return to life.


**After Math**

_Quinuclidinyl Benzilate_

I can't spell it  
but I dream about it.

This dream would  
be easier to get through  
if  
I could wake  
or see the sun

but

in the night  
there's Mason Lancer  
syringe in hand

he lectures  
he injects  
I drown

_Potassium Chloride_

Full.

Stop.

_White Bed, Light Thoughts_

When I come back  
from the dead (and that's  
what it is, you know, dead)  
I think  
I don't  
I shouldn't  
be here and  
so aware  
of what's come crashing down  
of  
the lives lost.

I say:

It's not like getting  
killed  
was part of the original  
plan. I  
knew it was a risk  
but you know, Don,  
(no, really you don't)  
when you survive Afghanistan  
you come back with  
your mind  
in two extremes.

At the same time you  
feel invincible for surviving  
you know  
that you've been closer to death than  
most people will be  
before they're old.

Don knows the power of  
just listening  
and that's what he does.  
Just listens.

I spill.  
I tell Don

everything.  
Everything

except  
that the part about the tunnel  
and the white light  
is true.

That's the kind of secret  
I could only  
share  
with Dwayne.

Don's been shot but  
never nearly died and I don't need  
his pity or  
his sympathy  
just  
his understanding which  
I'm sure  
I might get  
if he'd talk to me instead  
of just listening.

_The Darkest Hour Before Dawn_

It's not every night  
but  
enough nights  
that I sit up  
bowl of cereal  
infomercials  
sometimes reruns of _Angel_  
and I regret.

Regret is  
weighted on both sides.  
Like, I regret  
that my actions got Dwayne killed  
and not being able to come clean to Don earlier  
and that I had to lie to so many  
God, so many people.

But I don't regret  
doing the right thing.

At least  
I think I don't.

I might know more after  
I figure out what  
exactly  
is the right thing.

I wonder  
if the infomercials can help.

_In Re: Things I Could Do Right Now if Don Wasn't Sleeping With Liz_

Pick up the phone  
Hit #2 on speed dial  
Remedy.

Drive to his apartment  
Tell him my final secrets  
Release.

Explain why I did  
what I did  
Rebuild.

Show him why I belong to  
the FBI, his office, his team.  
Reestablish.

Back to the stakeouts  
to the running and the rush.  
Regain.

_In Trust_

Don's reliability in the field is  
one thing.  
His emotional reliability  
(he likes to think he hides it  
but dude  
glass is less transparent)  
is  
quite another.

Liz  
wouldn't understand  
because  
her idea of trust  
(where Don is concerned  
anyway)  
is a little  
different than mine.

For a while  
(subway  
cell phone  
guns  
train coming)  
I wasn't so sure Don  
would be able to  
put himself aside  
to realize how much it meant  
that I could have called  
David  
Megan  
Alan  
Charlie  
Larry  
but

I called _him_  
because I trusted  
_him._

Don knows being trusted  
is greater than  
trusting others

and he might remember that  
if he  
ever forgives me.

_If I Had Three Wishes_

1. I wish my last words to Dwayne Carter hadn't been "Because I hate owing you."  
2. I wish my last words to Dwayne Carter hadn't been "Because I hate owing you."  
3. I wish my last words to Dwayne Carter hadn't been "Because I hate owing you."

_Idle Minds Do the Devil's Work_

I have  
the cleanest apartment in LA  
perfectly feng-shuied furniture  
alphabetized all my books by author  
and then again by title  
run from here to Cleveland and back on my treadmill  
watched three Law & Order marathons  
learned to make homemade pasta (thank you, Giada DeLaurentis)  
ironed all my shirts  
visited every legal porn site on the web

and I  
am going absolutely crazy.

I stare  
at my cell phone, lonely  
on the coffee table.

Maybe the Eppes family  
wants homemade pasta for dinner.

_Where I'd Go If I Wasn't Basically on House Arrest_

Despite my newfound skills  
of organization  
I miss  
the controlled chaos  
of  
Charlie's office.

I miss his dartboard and  
his math toys and  
chalk dust  
gumballs  
papers everywhere  
coffee cups  
computer cords  
scattered books

I could just  
sit there  
watching him work.

He wouldn't even have  
to talk to me  
and really  
at this point I wouldn't  
care if he didn't  
want to.

I could just  
sit there

and maybe without my talking  
Charlie would know  
how much I owe him  
how Megan told me he  
(of all people!)  
was the one who put math aside  
and said that they  
could only know  
what was in their hearts.

Their hearts.

Charlie.

I'll be damned.

_In the Clear_

"You're cleared,"  
comes the voice from the phone.  
"You can go back,"  
he says,  
and I think,  
no,  
I will never be clear,  
I can never go back.  
But I know  
we're talking  
about two different things.

Just when I've taken up  
the swing of Don's team  
the PTBs offer me Washington  
and the Medal for Meritorious Conduct  
but I'd trade both of those  
and hell, even all the stuff from my desk,  
for LA.

_The Book of David_

If looks could kill...

it wouldn't really matter  
because I'd be too dead  
to see them.

Don told me it  
was David  
who pulled the needle from my heart  
started CPR  
realized in that minute  
(which might have been  
a day)  
who I'd been all along

and yet

it's David who  
only talks to me when he has to  
looks at me  
eyes narrowed  
mouth tight  
never has  
a kind word  
if he has any words at all

and I know why.

I let David think  
he knew all my secrets:  
the hell of Afghanistan  
the heaven of Idaho's open spaces  
and how stakeouts were my idea of purgatory  
because  
telling him those  
truths  
made my  
lies  
easier for him to  
believe.

I don't really expect forgiveness  
but it seems

that

at the end of all of this I  
have only traded one life  
debt  
for another.

Well, maybe not.  
I mean

Dwayne never wanted me  
to forget. Maybe  
David never wants me  
to remember.

_Lonesome Tonight_

I act like  
two years of celibacy  
was no big deal.  
Duty to the country  
and all.

Secretly I think I  
deserve  
a medal just for _that_.

_On the Night Don Made Me Talk_

I find it funny  
in that sick sort of ironic way  
that Don is the one who's so  
eager for sound  
as we sit  
coffee and silence  
gotta love stakeouts.

I had a string of questions ready to go.  
"Can I come back?"  
"Who would partner me?"  
"Is the team ever going to forgive me?"

Of course, I didn't ask the  
most important question in my arsenal:

"How can I ever repay you?"

The most important question  
doesn't have to have an answer  
out loud.

So I jump out of the car,  
and trust Don  
with my life.

--

end


End file.
